Phil. How now, in tears, my fair Candiope?
So, through a watry cloud,
The sun, at once, seems both to weep and shine.
For what forefather's sin do you afflict
Those precious eyes? For sure you have
None of your own to weep.
Cand. My crimes both great and many needs must shew, Since heaven will punish them with losing you.
Phil. Afflictions, sent from heaven without a cause,
Make bold mankind enquire into its laws.
But heaven, which moulding beauty takes such care,
Makes gentle fates on purpose for the fair:
And destiny, that sees them so divine,
Spins all their fortunes in a silken twine:
No mortal hand so ignorant is found,
To weave coarse work upon a precious ground.
Cand. Go preach this doctrine in my mother's ears.
Phil. Has her severity produced these tears?
Cand. She has recalled those hopes she gave before, And strictly bids me ne'er to see you more.
Phil. Changes in froward age are natural;
Who hopes for constant weather in the fall?
'Tis in your power your duty to transfer,
And place that right in me, which was in her.
Cand. Reason, like foreign foes, would ne'er o'ercome, But that I find I am betrayed at home; You have a friend, that fights for you within.
Phil. Let reason ever lose, so love may win.
Enter Queen with a picture in her hand, and ASTERIA